Lessons in Pleasure

Please remand, to the bearer of this note, three or four of your most popular texts on the subject of female health and marital relations.

Could he know it was from a woman? Would he report her to her husband?

A flutter of panic was just beginning to rise in her throat when the door to the shop flew inward. Pressing her fingers to her mouth, Sarah held her breath until a familiar skirt appeared above the threshold.

Betsy stepped out, mouth set in a serious line as befit a kitchen maid elevated to a temporarily important status. She didn’t look scandalized or titillated, only determined. When she saw Sarah watching, she broke into a smile, then remembered herself and smothered it.

“’E drove a hard bargain, ma’am, but I got him down to four quid!” She was proud of herself, regardless that she had no idea how much her package should have cost, but Sarah thought four quid a good bargain and told her so.

The maid kept the paper-wrapped bundle close as she alighted, and though Sarah wanted to snatch it from her, there could be no reasonable excuse to do so. Still, she stared anxiously at the brown paper as Betsy settled it on her lap and wrapped her chapped fingers around the string.

Sarah’s answer might be inside that brown paper, just inches from her hands. Had last night been a fit? A sign that her mother’s tainted blood had been passed to her? If so, she would have to tell James a truth too horrible to consider . . . that she might pass on the illness she’d hidden to his children.

The palms of her white gloves were soaked with perspiration by the time the hack delivered them back to the Hood door. When they entered, Betsy moved to carry the books to the library, but Sarah touched her elbow.

“I will take those,” she said too loudly, then managed a smile when Betsy jumped in shock. “Thank you, Betsy. You were a great help to me today.” Heart beating too hard to hear the maid’s reply, Sarah wrapped her arms around the books and spun to run up the stairs.

“Sarah?” a deep voice called, interrupting her retreat. The tone and timbre of that voice spread icy fingers over the skin of her back. Her knees locked and she nearly pitched forward onto her face.

“Sarah?” James’s voice repeated from only a few feet behind her. Clutching her guilt tighter to her chest, Sarah tried hard to breathe.

She was caught.

* * *

When his wife turned toward him, James felt no small amount of alarm at her pallor. He was actually reaching out to catch her when her lips trembled into a smile.

“James, you surprised me. Whatever are you doing home at this hour?”

He frowned. “Are you quite well, my dear?” He started to ease his hand beneath her elbow, but she shifted away, drawing his eye to the package she held.

“I am fine. I was only out to . . . I only just . . .”

He smiled. “More books, darling?”

“I . . .” Her eyes fell. “Yes,” she whispered. “Books.”

“Come.” He slid his hand over her shoulder and curled his fingers to touch the back of her neck, shocked at the way her skin played havoc with his nerves. But shock didn’t stop him from lowering his mouth to her forehead. He let himself breathe her in for a bare second before he pulled away. “You may buy as many novels as you like. We have a library to fill, after all.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“Sarah,” he said on a nervous laugh. “Pray do not look at me as if I were a monster.” As soon as he said the word “monster” it occurred to him that maybe her upset had nothing to do with books and everything to do with last night. Horror froze his blood to a sluggish crawl. Had he hurt her? Frightened her? His stomach fell to his feet.

His wife shook her head and tried to blink the tears away. “Of course not. You are so good to me. Always.”

Helpless and confused, he dropped his hand from her neck, though he clenched his fingers to hold her warmth captive. “I thought perhaps we could take luncheon together. Have I upset you too much to join me?” What he’d actually thought was that they might use luncheon as an excuse to flirt. He’d hoped to tease a blush to her cheeks, hoped that the memory would keep him company for the rest of this interminable day. Now he only hoped not to hurt her tender feelings.

Sarah took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Against him?

“I would love to dine with you, James. I was only overset by a headache this morning. Please forgive me.”

“Of course!” he answered. Of course, she’d suffered a headache. His wife did not often indulge in too many glasses of wine. “If you are ill, I will leave you to your rest.”

“No, stay! Please stay. I only need a moment.”

Before he could offer even a small bow, she’d whirled away and started up the stairs, arms still clutching her package. James watched her go, tracing her small waist with his eyes.

Her delicate femininity had inspired his protectiveness from the moment they’d met. Whenever she was near, he felt larger. Stronger, somehow. But today, for the first time, he felt like a clumsy oaf with hands far too big to handle a creature as beautifully fragile as his wife.